


Protection Detail

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Family, M/M, Memories, POV First Person, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night in the life of?  A random, one-shot (in that, well, it only covers a period of around 60 minutes), that's set six or so months after One Step At A Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection Detail

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Narrated by Will & self beta'd.  
> ~ Follows on from One Step At A Time - and, yes, having read that first will definitely help with it making... sense...  
> ~ Slightly 'fluffy' in terms of banter, granted, but there's still -- internal -- angst. Lots of banter, though.  
> ~ Set at the Hunt family farm! (Seriously!)  
> ~ Quite possibly... truly... self-indulgent. Trust me, I get that. But... I don't know. It's just meant as window of... normalcy, and it... does... expand slightly on the original fic. So...
> 
> ~ Hey, I'm... struggling at the moment. (Hell, you only have to look at the 'tags' I spent ages trying to come up with before just... giving up!) It's just... sad. My cat has taken to being very demanding in relation to my lap... and usually waits until I've just turned the laptop on before appearing and insisting that it be... gone, like... now! (And, believe it or, she's just arrived now!) This, needless to say, makes both writing and using the computer difficult, and...
> 
> Yeah, yeah... It's a hard life.
> 
> (But, having managed to make it this far, tonight I'll persevere anyway and, finally, as both cat hair floats all over the computer and my cat looks sulky because I'm not paying her enough attention, force myself to hit the 'post' button!)
> 
> ~ So... Please. Enjoy.

=============  
Protection Detail  
by TalithaX  
=============

 

“Good. You're still awake.”

Marking my page with the boarding pass I've been using as a bookmark, I close my book and place it down on the bedside table. Looking both flushed from the cold night air and just a little on the damp side from the rain that's been falling steadily ever since we left the Dane County Regional Airport seven hours ago and drove the sixty or so miles to his family farm here in Marquette County, Ethan closes the bedroom door and beams at me as, taking my glasses off and carefully placing them on top of my book, I smirk and shoot him a bemused look.

“What?” Giving me a bemused look of his own, Ethan shrugs out of his heavy winter coat and, after glancing around the room and not finding anywhere to hang it, drops it down on to the floor. “Why are you looking at me like that? Am I covered in spider webs or something?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “No spider webs.”

“Then, I don't know, is there a great big ugly spider sitting on my shoulder?” he queries dubiously as, no doubt unable to help himself, he brushes invisible spiders and/or their webs from off his sweater.

I shake my head again. “No. No spiders either.”

“Don't tell me, let me guess...” Rolling his eyes, he gives an expansive shrug and laughs. “Left to my own devices for a mere half an hour or so and I've already reverted to my yokel ways and have a piece of straw hanging out of the corner of my mouth...”

“You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy?” I offer with a laugh of my own as, going for a hat trick here, I give yet another shake of my head.

“Something like that,” Ethan replies as, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the door, he gives me an expectant look from under an arched brow. “So... What is it? Why are you looking at me as though I've suddenly grown a second head?”

“Because...” Rolling my eyes, I laugh again and flash Ethan my best attempt at an innocent smile. “Your statement when you walked in. Just... Think about it for a minute, and... Tell me when it last was you came to bed and found me already asleep...”

“Oh.” Feigning a look that can be best described as... one of long sufferance, Ethan mimes a smack to the forehead and, in keeping with his Oscar worthy performance, mock groans, “So what you're saying is that my... statement, it was a little on the redundant side, yeah?”

“Just a little, yeah,” I confirm with a nod. “And... Before the cogs in your head grind in to life and you decide to mention that time in Rome last month, just... Don't go there.”

“But...” Smirking, Ethan shifts away from the door and, gracing me with a smug look on the way past, walks over to where his bag is lying on the floor by the window. “Why can't I go there? You were, after all, asleep.”

“I was concussed and pumped full of painkillers!” I exclaim, gesturing airily at Ethan as I relax against the pillows at my back. “Just... Rome doesn't count and you know it. Godzilla himself could have crashed in to the room that night and I still would have slept through it.”

Shrugging, Ethan crouches down and opens his bag. “It wasn't Godzilla you needed to be worried about,” he murmurs more than a tad cryptically as he ferrets through the contents of his bag in search of pyjamas.

“I'm pleased to hear it,” I retort, giving Ethan an openly curious look as, triumphantly pulling his pyjamas out and waving them at me, he stands back up. “That is... I... think... I'm pleased to hear it.”

“Mmm... Godzilla you were safe from. Jane, on the other hand, perhaps not so much,” Ethan replies with a perfectly straight face as he walks back around the bed to stand next to me.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“But you're going to tell me anyway?”

“That I am,” Ethan confirms with, and I don't even care that this isn't a particularly nice way of putting it, a truly shit-eating grin. “You were so dead to the world,” he continues quite cheerfully as he places his pyjamas on the bedside table before pulling his sweater over his head and throwing it on to the floor to join his coat, “that Jane wanted to try her luck at drawing a moustache on you...”

“Oh! She did, did she...” Groaning, I successfully quash the urge to snicker at this unexpected titbit and go instead with shooting Ethan an unimpressed look. “That... “That's just lovely, it really is.”

“But wait, there's more.”

“There... is?”

“Mmm... She didn't want to just leave it at a moustache, and also wanted to go with...” Trailing off, he reaches out and very gently taps his finger on my cheek. “Freckles,” he adds with a snicker as, genuinely taken aback by the thought of Jane wanting to draw freckles on me while I slept off a concussion, I gaze up at him wide-eyed. “Only... Seeing as she was planning to create this... artistic masterpiece... with a black eyeliner, I think the end result would have been more... plague marks... than freckles.”

“Oh.” Leaning in to Ethan's touch as he cups the side of my face in his palm, I glance up and, growing more amused by all of this by the second, fail spectacularly in my attempt to glare at him. “I'm taking it, however, that you stepped in and dutifully convinced her that she needed to find something better to do with her time than... turn me into some sort of moustached plague victim, yeah?”

“Sorry.” Leaning forward, Ethan plants a quick kiss on my forehead before, being nothing if not a firm believer in self-preservation, taking a step back. “Taking my responsibilities as team leader seriously, I didn't want to be accused of favouritism and, seeing he was actually doing a more than admirable job of standing up to her anyway, just left Benji to... uh... fight in your corner,” he states with a laugh as, it all just getting too much, I grab a pillow and, laughing, throw it at him.

“My hero,” I mutter, ducking as he scoops the pillow up and throws it back at me.

“Hey! It worked, didn't it,” he smirks. “You didn't wake up covered in black... plague marks, and I discovered, to my surprise I might add, that Benji doesn't always let Jane get her own way. So...”

“Well. When you put it that way,” I reply with another laugh as, shaking my head, I return the pillow to the other side of the bed. “Don't, however, be insulted if, should it come down to choosing who I want to back me up in a fight, I go with Benji. Oh, and...” Pausing, I mirror Ethan's smirk and wag my finger at him. “Back to what started this... peculiar confessional? Given what my so called friends get up to when I'm out cold, do you see now why I'm always awake when you come to bed?”

“Actually...” His smile slipping slightly, Ethan frowns and, with his gaze locked on mine, starts to unbutton his shirt. “At the risk of spoiling my, and you've got to admit it was a good one, anecdote here,” he murmurs softly, “you do know, don't you, that although it was all meant in good humour that... I never would have let her do it. Just as I really hope you know...”

“That I was perfectly safe in here,” I finish with a wry smile as, just about is always the case when I try to mix light heartedness with what, as it happens, is simply cold hard... fact, I start to regret ever having – innocently – opened my stupid mouth. “I... Of course I know that. If the door... had... opened it would have only been someone wanting to know if I'd like a hot chocolate or needed another blanket, and not anyone wanting to... uh... try their luck. I know that, I do. It's just...” Sighing, I gaze down at the truly old fashioned, if not a genuine family heirloom, quilt that covers the bed and give a small, helpless shrug. “I...”

I can sleep by myself. Of course I can. I'm not ashamed to admit that it's far from my preferred option and that I'm always happier when I've got Ethan – to use as a pillow – by my side, but... I can do it. I'm not that much or a basket-case or fragile that I can't cope on my own or absolutely positively need someone with me twenty-four-seven. It's just...

If I know someone's going to join me in the room, be it Ethan in the same bed as me or Benji in another bed on the other side of the shared hotel room, I can't go to sleep until they're there. Even if I'm tired and actually longing for sleep, I'll lie there in a suspended state of consciousness until I'm no longer alone and can finally – relax – switch off. I've always been something of a light sleeper, but now... Well. Thanks to... what happened... having put a pretty severe dint in both my ability to trust and feel safe, I'm – more on edge – worse than I've ever been. A floorboard creaks or a doorknob is turned and, regardless of how soundly asleep I might have been, I wake with a start and can't nod off again until I've worked out just what the source of the noise was. Needless to say this doesn't make for the most restful sleep, so, if I'm expecting someone I've worked out it's just easier to stay awake until they've joined me.

And this, even though – despite the simple pleasure derived from the banter it inspired – I'm now wishing that I hadn't even said anything, is all that I was referring to with my initial comment. 

Ethan found me awake in bed because... that's just how he always finds me.

Awake, and blithely putting my foot in it. I should have just smiled a silent greeting at him or asked how it had gone out in the shed, but, no. I just had to go with something that on face value alone can be seen as light hearted teasing, but which, when broken down, actually has its origins in something far... better left unsaid.

“It's just how it is,” Ethan states matter-of-factly as, draping his shirt over the door handle and pulling on the long sleeved blue t-shirt he's going to sleep in, he shifts closer to the bed and closes his hand warmly around my shoulder. “Don't... Come on, Will. Don't... do this, and... don't worry about it. I stated the obvious, you picked me up on it, a spot of banter followed, and... that's all there is to it. Besides...” Pausing, he leans forward and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “It being your turn to think about things for a minute here, when was the last time you came to bed and found me already asleep, huh?”

“I...” He's right. Of course he is. I can even see and, perhaps more importantly, accept where he's coming from. It was just a light-hearted – hardly thought out, granted, but still meant completely innocently – comment and, again, he's right, I can't, the odd concussion here and there aside, remember ever having come to bed and found Ethan already asleep. It... It's nothing. I'm making a spectacular mountain out of a molehill, and...

It's just what I do. 

I have the knack, the unerring ability – it's like a fucking gift, the sort that just keeps on giving, it really is – to turn everything on its head by opening myself up to self-doubt. It's always there, lingering in the background and whispering, amongst other things, that I'm – only really good for one thing – useless and it's only a matter of time before Ethan and everyone else finally realises this for themselves, in my ear, and... I hate it. It twists everything and ruins moments that most people would either take for granted or not so much as spare a second thought towards.

But...

I can't help it. I can fight it, and I can refuse to let it truly get the better of me, but I can't fully defeat it and nor, again, can I actually help it.

Ethan is – everything to me – my best friend. He's also my lover, the very reason I'm even here, and the only person I feel one-hundred percent comfortable with. I love him more than I ever thought I'd love anyone. I also think, not that I'd exactly rate this as a positive, he knows me even better than I know myself. He knows both my secrets and just why it is I'm – such a freaking basket-case – the way that I am. He's seen me at my very worst, yet, from the first moment we met, he's always been there for me. Non-judgemental. Patient. Gentle. Understanding. The very best friend I could ever have asked for.

Everything.

He's been, and... is, everything to me.

I love him, and I know, despite it still being something of a cause for constant amazement to me, that he loves me. He sees through my faults, and my seemingly never ending list of character flaws, and just knowing that he's there for me is enough to get me through whatever life or, as the case usually is, my own psyche might try to throw at me.

Yet...

Despite all of this, his understanding and kindness and faultless ability to both get through to me and make me feel better, I...

I still lose it in front of him. Still put my foot in it and feel as though I'd like nothing more than for the ground to open up beneath me and swallow me whole. Still... take something said in jest and both twist it and take it to a darker place, take it somewhere neither of us want to go.

And, again, I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate it. I hate the fact I can't make it through a single day without my mind taking me back there for some reason or another, and I hate that I know it'll never truly leave me, that it'll always be there. The... fear that I'm not good enough, that I'll be punished for daring to speak out of turn or, God forbid, for doing something wrong. The... niggling worry that someone will recognise me, if not from being naked and on my knees in person, then from the images that I just know have to be still floating around the internet somewhere. 'I know you... Yeah. I'm sure I do. I've seen you somewhere. Oh! I know now. Hey... You sure do look different with clothes on.' I just... I'm just waiting for it, and don't know what I'll do, period, let alone if it occurs during an active mission, when it eventually happens.

I'm...

I'm afraid of being recognised, of failing those I care about, of Ethan realising that I require far more effort than I'm actually worth, of...

Hell. I'm just afraid of doing the wrong thing. From speaking out of turn to inadvertently fucking up a mission. Just about you name it and I'm afraid of being responsible for it.

It...

It's just how it is.

I'm not the same person I was before Berlin and, always having been something of a realist, I've made my peace with the fact that nor will I ever be. What I am, however, is still here. I'm still alive, and I'm free. I don't... have... to do anything that I don't want to, even though, it simply being a by product of life in general, I still – entirely by choice – do. My body, however, is mine, and I'm the only one who has any say over who touches it.

People call me a fighter. Ethan even goes so far as to say he admires me for the way I pulled myself together after what happened and just got on with it. To me though, I don't see myself as either a fighter or someone to be admired at all. I just did what I felt that I had to do. It wasn't easy, and if Ethan hadn't been around in those early days or I'd found myself just dumped in a hospital somewhere I might have simply given up and slipped easily into depression. I doubted myself just about every waking moment, the fear that things weren't really as they seemed lurked constantly in the back of my mind, and...

I pushed through it because I felt that I had to. For both myself and for Ethan, who always seemed convinced of my worth even while I was still questioning it, I just had to keep going. First to give Ethan a reason to stay by my side, then to do what I could to help him bring down the mole, and then, finally, to... just keep going. I had my life back, friends that had already shown they were more than prepared to go above and beyond in respect to proving their loyalty to me, and... Really, what else was I supposed to do? Just wave the white flag of defeat and book myself into a padded cell somewhere? I had to fight and somehow find a way to make it through each and every day as, let's face it, it was the only thing I... could... do. I had to return to work. I had to leave, first Ethan's house, and then the comfort of the team, solely to prove that I could. I had to do everything in my power, if not to put it all behind me, then to move forward from it.

I had to, and I did.

I kept going and, again, I'm still here.

Battle scarred, both physically and mentally, but still here.

Lucky, in so many ways, loved, and thankful. So very, very thankful.

… Even if I do still have it me to lose it over absolutely nothing. 

“I'm still sorry,” I finish in a small voice as I pick Ethan's hand up in mine and squeeze it. “I shouldn't have... gone there... but, I did, of course I did, and I'm sorry.”

“And I'm only sorry that... that's how your mind has to operate,” Ethan replies with a sigh as, squeezing my hand back and straightening up, he glances over his shoulder at the door. “But... Enough of this. Do you want me to go out so I can come in again and we can start over afresh?”

“Nah. You're here now, and...” Releasing his hand, I dredge up a smile and shrug. “I'm good, more than... good, actually, to move on if you are. I... Hopefully I've had my little... moment... for the night and we can just move on.”

“As... moments... go, this one, really, was close to non-existent,” he retorts, a brief grin softening his no-nonsense expression as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and leans down to unzip his boots, “so, come on, think happy thoughts and let's move on.”

“Happy thoughts, huh?” I murmur, frowning in feigned concentration as I watch Ethan kick his boots and socks away before standing back up and, after shooting me a pointed look, reaching for the fly of his jeans. “Okay, okay! Happy thoughts. Right. Here I go with... happy thoughts...”

“I'm waiting,” Ethan mutters, keeping a watchful eye on me as, dropping his jeans and boxers, he steps out of them and pulls on his pyjama pants.

“And... I'm thinking!” I protest with a laugh. “Just... Uh... The tractor porn you were dragged off to indulge in in the shed, did it live up to expectations?”

His eyes widening in, I suspect, shock, Ethan straightens up and, laughing, shakes his head. “Tractor porn? Expectations?” he echoes. “I'm not sure I even want to ask...”

“Your cousin, he was somewhat insistent that you went out to the shed with him so that you could... admire... the new tractor, yes?”

“Well, it's actually a harvester, but...”

“Harvester. Tractor. Whatever.” Smirking, I meet Ethan's gaze and give an expansive shrug. “Sorry. Forgive me for not being able to tell my John Deere from my... Uh... You're going to have to help me out here...”

“New Holland?” Ethan offers with a smirk of his own as he waits patiently – to see just where it is I think I'm going with this – for me to go on.

“Well... Taking your word for it here, as I'm not someone who can tell a John Deere from a... New Holland, all I was really wanting to know was whether your... experience... in the shed with the thing lived up to expectations.”

“Tractor porn... in the shed... with my cousin, not to mention a few uncles and random in-laws of the farming persuasion... Just... What on earth did you think we were doing out there?”

“Never having encountered so much... enthusiasm... for a piece of farm machinery before, I really have no idea,” I reply, beaming at Ethan as I make no attempt whatsoever to hide my relief at having gotten things so effortlessly back on a light-hearted, bantering note. “It... It was just something else to behold.”

“As was the harvester,” Ethan replies just a tad smugly. “Seriously. As... tractor porn... goes it's in a league of its own. Don't worry though, as it's not going anywhere any time soon I'm sure Joe would be only... too... happy to take you on a private tour of it tomorrow.”

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn'twant to get my hopes up too much.”

“Keep up the smart-ass act and I'll make a point of... insisting... he not only introduces it to you, but, seeing as you're clearly so fascinated by it, he also takes the time to give you a lesson on actually using the damn thing.”

“A lesson in what exactly? Just why it is I don't having a farming bone in my body?” I respond, snickering. “Just... Uh. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“No?”

“No.”

“But...”

“Uh-uh. No buts. I'd probably only have to go near the thing for it to... God! I don't know, spring a leak or start to rust or something. Just... Weren't you listening to me on the plane? Farming, and this, I'm sure, extends to inanimate pieces of farm machinery as much as it does livestock and crops, and I do... not... get along.”

“All because of that school excursion to a farm when you were ten?” Ethan queries with what I swear has to be a snort of bemusement as he looks down at me and slowly shakes his head. “That was... decades ago, and...”

“Okay. You got that I was dragged out of my nice suburban existence and made to go on a camp at a working dairy farm when I was ten, but... Did you actually listen to the rest of it?” I interrupt, giving him a warning look as, warming to my tale, I fold my arms across my chest and sigh.

“The... tragic... bit about not knowing that milk actually came out of... cows, and not just cardboard cartons brought home from the grocery store?” Ethan murmurs, mirroring my pose by folding his arms across his chest. “See? I was listening.”

“Then you also would have heard the bit about being made to... milk... one of the damn things and how it tried to kick me,” I mutter, pulling a face. “Oh! And how that... scarring experience... coupled with never feeling as though I was going to be rid of the smell of cow shit after being trekked through field after field of the... uh... crap, saw me refusing to drink milk for the next twelve months.”

“I heard it,” he confirms, rolling his eyes as he gives me a look that's as amused as it it pitying. “I struggled to... believe it, but I certainly heard how a nasty experience with a couple of cows...”

“A couple of cows!” I exclaim, laughing. “There were hundreds of the things! Hundreds and hundreds and, once the camp was finally over, I vowed then and there that... I'd be a farm-free-zone from that point onwards.”

“And... that includes having anything to do with a harvester?”

I nod. “It does. Harvester. Tractor. You name it, and if it has something to do with farming, I don't want to have anything to do with it.”

“You sound very adamant on this point,” Ethan snickers as, unfolding his arms, he reaches out and ruffles my hair. “Slightly... irrational, granted, but definitely adamant. So... Let me see if I've got this right. No private tour of the harvester for you...”

“No private tour of the harvester for me,” I repeat, pulling back from Ethan's hand and failing dismally in my attempt to freeze him with a disapproving look. “It's a kind offer, and I don't want to hurt Joe's feelings by not wanting to see his... uh... baby, but... Let's just say it's probably for the best and leave it at that. Now... If it was an Aston Martin or a shed full of old Jags...”

“If it was an Aston Martin or a collection of old Jags I'd probably still be out in the shed admiring them instead of here having this, for the want of a better word, conversation,” he mutters, grinning. “So... Wanting to move things along from... tractor porn, and harvesters, and... hordes of cows doing disgusting things like providing milk for the masses... Just... what were you doing while I was outside indulging my inner-farmer in the freezing night air?”

“Staying warm, for starters,” I retort. “I know, I know. It's a hard life and all that, but, hey, someone's got to do it.”

“And you think you've got what it takes for the task?”

“Of staying warm? Oh, absolutely.”

“Well... So long as it wasn't too onerous, or too much of an ask of you, or anything like that.”

“What can I say other than I'm dedicated?”

“I was thinking a... smart ass, myself.”

Laughing, I poke my tongue out at Ethan and give an airy shrug. “Charming. I don't know what your family see in you, I really don't.” 

“Perhaps it's a case of... absence making the heart grow fonder?” Ethan offers, giving me a funny look as he starts to walk towards the door. “Why... I don't know. Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I don't want to know just what it was you were getting up to while staying warm...”

“Me? I wouldn't exactly call sitting on my ass in front of the fire... getting up to anything,” I reply, meeting Ethan's gaze and smirking. “Mind you, I... was... sitting next to the birthday girl herself and, okay, she... may... have been regaling me with stories of some of the things you used to get up to while growing up.”

“Birthday... girl, huh?” he murmurs, laughing. “Not only has Great Aunt May reached the grand old age of one-hundred, but she's still being called a girl. With sweet-talking like that, no wonder she's so taken with you and wouldn't let you out of her sight.”

“Actually... The fact she had her, very strong, I might add, hand clutched around my knee during our entire time together on the sofa, I think, has a lot to do with just why it was she wouldn't let me out of her sight.”

“Strong hand, yeah?” Laughing again, Ethan reaches for the light switch and lets his hand just hover over it in anticipation of turning it off. “Must be from all the... decades... of milking cows, I suspect...”

I groan. I just can't help it. “Now who's being a smart ass?”

“Maybe I was just hoping that if I keep taunting you about your apparent... cow-phobia... you might just forget all about the no doubt embarrassing stories my Great Aunt ever-so-kindly shared with you.”

“They weren't embarrassing, well, not compared to my tale about all the childhood trauma the dairy farm installed in me they weren't, and...” Trailing off, I smile and gesture at Ethan to turn the light off. “It... It was just nice, you know... May was clearly enjoying having someone new to share her stories with, and... I liked listening to her. We... Trust me, we kept ourselves entertained and would probably be still downstairs in front of the fire if May hadn't dozed off mid-anecdote about a state fair and an escaped pig...”

“Sow,” Ethan corrects with a roll of his eyes. “It was a sow, a prize sow, at that, and, from my perspective at least, I can't say that I'm sorry she dozed off in the middle of the tale.”

“If that's your way of saying you hope she didn't get to the bit about you falling face first in the mud in the arena...”

“No such luck, huh?”

“No such luck,” I confirm. “It's okay, though. If you can find it in yourself to drop the... cow jokes, I'll see what I can do about not... reminding May in the morning of her promise to find the photographs of the event for me.”

“So... Maybe the time has come to cease all talk of animals and just go to bed, then,” Ethan replies, flashing me a warm smile as he rests his finger on the light switch.

“Sounds good to me,” I murmur, patting the mattress in an open invitation to join me in bed. “Come on. I think you're right in that we've probably done the animal and... tractor porn... thing to death and should just go to sleep.”

“As I couldn't have put it better myself, let's can the talk of animals and... Uh!” His eyes widening in apparent surprise, Ethan points an accusing finger at the foot of the bed and shakes his head. “Just... What is... that? Or, perhaps more to the point, what the hell is it doing on the bed?”

Glancing down in the direction Ethan's pointing at, I shrug and, because it's clearly the night for it, laugh at the... randomness... that's been making up most of our conversation. “So much for not talking about animals,” I mutter, leaning forward and stroking my hand along the cat's – the cat Ethan, despite the fact it was asleep at my feet before he even entered the room, has clearly only just seen – back and causing it to both purr and give me a sleepy look. “At the risk of stating the obvious here, it's a cat, and, again with stating the obvious, what it's doing on the bed is... sleeping.”

“Make that, was... sleeping,” he corrects with what sounds to be a truly long suffering sigh as the cat stands up, yawns, stretches, and, all the time purring loudly, sets about curling itself up into a tight little ball. “I...” Scowling, he moves closers to the bed and peers down the cat. “It looks like Houdini,” he announces, his scowl intensifying as the cat, almost as though it knows he's talking about it, opens its eyes and glances up at him.

“Houdini?” I repeat, returning my hand to the cat's back in the hope of it just settling down and going back to sleep. “Uh... Sorry, but as it doesn't much look like a long dead magician to me, I'm going to have to ask you for a bit of clarification here.”

“Houdini was a cat we used to have when I was growing up,” Ethan explains as, with another sigh and shake of his head, he walks back over to the door. “He was black and white, like your new friend there is, and, regardless of how much effort my father used to put in to making sure he was outside, which, trust me, not liking cats very much it was a task he was well and truly dedicated to, we were forever finding him inside... where, it goes without saying, he shouldn't have been. My parents' bed seemed to be his favourite spot, but that didn't stop me from occasionally waking up and finding him fast asleep on my bed either. It... Getting back inside somehow, and, no we never were able to work out how exactly he was managing it, was just an art form for him and, in the end, my father just gave up and left him to it.” Reaching once more for the light switch, Ethan glances back down at the bed and, despite possibly not wanting to, smiles. “Seriously. It just looks like Houdini's long lost twin.”

“Or... Great-great-great-great... and probably even a few more greats thrown in for good measure... grand-kitten,” I murmur, returning Ethan's smile as, satisfied that Houdini Junior has settled back down again, I relax against the pillows. “Hey, given his unexpected arrival on the bed, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if he did just happen to be related to your old cat,” I continue. “When I first entered the room there wasn't any sign of a cat. I then, after carefully shutting the door behind me, went and did what I had to do in the bathroom before coming back here and, yet again, seeing no sign of a feline interloper. In fact, it wasn't until I was in bed and engrossed in my book that, out of nowhere, it just landed on the mattress and set about making itself entirely at home.” Pausing, I gesture at the cat and frown. “If... you're against sharing your bed with a cat, or... want me to move it, just...”

“If you don't mind sharing with a cat,” he interrupts, shrugging as, at long last, he switches off the overhead light and leaves the only light in the room coming from the lamp on my bedside table, “then... what can I say other than... I... don't mind sharing with a cat either.”

“Good. That's what I was hoping you'd say.” Smiling, I watch Ethan as he begins to move towards his side of the bed and, because I feel he probably deserves at least an half-assed attempt at an explanation, add, “I grew up with cats too and, regardless of how strange you might find this, I've missed having one, so... Even if it is only for one night...”

“It's not strange at all and, if you want to sleep with a cat, then... you can. Just as, if you wanted, you could have one,” Ethan replies, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed and shrugging as he looks down at me. “Hell... I'm sure, as there's enough of them around, you could probably have... this... one, if you wanted it. But... As that's probably a conversation that doesn't need to be had now, how about we just try to get some sleep, yeah...”

I nod. “As you probably don't want to know just how tempted I could be by that throwaway offer, I think you're right and we should just go to sleep,” I reply, folding down the quilt and patting the mattress next to me. “Come on. Come join me and... Houdini Junior... in bed.”

“With an invitation like that, how could I possibly refuse?”

“I'm an enticing proposition, what more can I say?”

“Actually, I was referring to the... regressing to my childhood... treat of getting to sleep with a cat,” he replies with a perfectly straight face as the cat, once again as though it knows it's being talked about, gives Ethan a baleful look before yawning and draping its tail over its nose. “See? Who wouldn't want to share their bed with such a... charming creature...”

“You know, it was fine until you showed up and started peering down your nose at it,” I retort in a light, teasing tone as, seeing as it didn't achieve anything the first time I did it, I give the mattress another pat.

“Make that... getting to share my bed with... two... charming creatures,” Ethan groans as, his expression suddenly turning serious, he fixes me with a look. “Will, I... Because I don't want to forget to mention this to you,” he continues in a solemn tone that's at odds with the soft smile tugging on his lips, “the reason I was so pleased to find you still awake is because I... I just want to thank you...”

“Thank me?” I repeat, almost as surprised by Ethan's abrupt change in mood as I am by him wanting to thank me for something. I mean... For what, exactly? For providing all the mood swings and banter he can handle? For, despite not actually being responsible for it personally, inflicting a cat on him? “I... I haven't done anything.”

“You have,” he murmurs, closing his hand around my foot and giving it a gentle squeeze through the duvet. “You may not be aware of it, but you... You've done a lot, actually.”

I shake my head. “I think all the cold air and the rain might have effected your...”

“Four years ago,” Ethan interrupts, talking over the top of me as he gives my foot another squeeze, “I drove away from here after my mother's funeral and, as I looked in the rear vision mirror, I was struck by the fact that... That was just that. Mom was dead. I'd... both willingly and possibly even with a sense of relief... signed the farm over to Joe, and, again, that was just it. I had no reason to ever come back again and, you know something, I was okay with it. I really was. I drove away with no sense of hesitation or loss as, hey, I'm not, despite never having gone so far as to share your cow-phobia, a farmer, and nor could I...ever... be a farmer. Nor could I ever imagine coming back here to live, so...” Pausing, he gives a small shrug and smiles. “Uh... What I'm trying, unsuccessfully, I suspect, to say here is... Thank you. Thank you for convincing me to come back for Auntie May's birthday. I never thought I'd miss the place, and I wouldn't have come back at all if it hadn't been for your voice of reason, but, well, now that I'm here it appears that I apparently have, that it's still...”

“Home?” I offer quietly, touched by Ethan's confession even though I hardly think I'm responsible for either his... epiphany... or the fact he's actually here at all. Granted, I certainly encouraged him to take part in May's extended birthday celebrations, but that was it. I thought that it might have been nice for him to see his family again, and, okay, I may have made something of a point of suggesting that he'd probably only regret it if he didn't at least consider it, but, again, that really was as far as my involvement went. I didn't nag or constantly repeat myself, and simply, because I honestly did feel strongly enough about it, explained why, regardless of the fact I knew it didn't really have anything to do with me, I thought attending the get-together was a good idea. Being an only child from a small family myself, the idea of Ethan getting – away from the stress of work, even if it was only for a weekend – to see his extended family appealed to me and all I did was make sure he knew this.

In other words, he has nothing to thank me for at all. I had my say. He then, after waving the white flag of defeat and agreeing – even if it was only to shut me up – to fit the trip in, convinced me in turn that if he was going I was going to have to go with him, and...

Here we are.

“Home,” Ethan agrees with a nod. “Yes. That's it exactly. I couldn't live here and, surname aside, I know I have next to nothing in common with anyone, but... You're right. It's still... home. Everywhere I turn there's memories, everyone treats me the same as they've always treated me, and I... I don't know. I just feel far more comfortable here than I thought I would.”

“That's because they're your family,” I reply, the pleasure I'm feeling at Ethan's obvious... pleasure... being trumped by my refusal to believe I'm in any way way responsible for it. “It has nothing to do with...”

“I wouldn't have looked at the invitation twice if it hadn't been for you, so...”

“I...”

“You know, you can actually accept either praise or thanks without arguing about it. I know it goes against your very own unique Brandt sense of logic, but you can.”

“But...”

“It really is pretty simple. I've had a great day, I'm glad that I'm here and, regardless of whether you actually believe it or not, it's all down to you...” Sighing, Ethan walks around the bed and once again takes a seat on the edge of the mattress so that he can reach out and cup his hand around my cheek. “The other reason I'm so glad to be here,” he continues, gently applying just enough pressure on my cheek so that, short of pulling my head away, I'm left with little option other than to face him, “is because of you. Will... You might still not be able to get it. You might even be thinking something along the lines of... 'but... we see each other just about every day...'”

“But... We do see each other just about every day,” I murmur weakly as sheer instinct causes me to lean into Ethan's touch. “And... And you would have come back here one day, regardless of whether you had someone trying to talk you in to it or not. This... This is your home, Ethan, and it's always going to be a part of you. Just as it's always going to be here for you. I...”

“You're right,” he states, cutting me off with an easy smile as he leans forward and plants a soft, lingering kiss on my forehead. “This is, and always will be, my home. And that, you overly logical pain-in-my-ass, is why I'm so pleased you're here with me. At the risk of sounding either soppy or, I don't know, even delusional, you're my life now, Will, and it... Well, it makes me happy, far happier, incidentally, than I ever expected it would, to be able to share my old life, my... home, with you. It mightn't seem like much, and to be perfectly honest I'm about as interested in the harvester as you are, but... This. This is where I came from, where my family still are, and I really am very glad that you're here with me.”

“I...” Touched by everything Ethan's just said, I sit up straighter and, wanting to show him that – I've given up – he's won, both drape my arms over his shoulders and give him a quick kiss on the lips. “You know something,” I whisper, resting my cheek against his as he slides his arm around my waist and gives me a gentle hug, “I'm rather glad that I'm here, too.”

What's more, I am too. I mean, of course I am. Not only am I with Ethan – again, always my preferred option even though it's safe to say I am actually perfectly capable of functioning without him – but I've also got to meet his family who, while it wasn't anything I ever really dwelt on, I honestly never thought that I would. The life of a spy not really being one to go all that successfully with maintaining a link to – your old life – family, I'd just accepted that I was never going to meet any of Ethan's relatives. I knew, from the random snippets of information he'd casually drop in to the conversation every now and again, that although both his parents were dead, other family members still worked the farm and that, as far as he could tell anyway, it was going to stay in the Hunt name until the end of all time. And, really, that was about the extent of my knowledge regarding his family. Not having a quarter of the relatives I gathered he'd grown up with, I can't say I wasn't curious about them as I was. In fact, I was very curious about them but, not being one to poke in to private matters for fear of what the results could be, I just let it be. They were both Ethan's family and his past, not mine, and if he wanted to cut himself off from them then that was his choice and his alone.

Even when he unexpectedly announced that, well, as we had a brief break in our schedule he couldn't actually see any reason... not... to put in an appearance at Great Aunt May's one-hundredth birthday celebrations, I thought that he'd just go by himself. I never, not for a second, thought that he'd insist that I accompany him. It was a family get-together, he'd never expressed any desire to go back to Wisconsin, let alone to introduce me to anyone, and I...

I didn't want to go.

That is, I wanted to both meet his family and see where he grew up, but, at the same time, I didn't want to go at all.

I...

I didn't want Ethan to think that he... had... to take me. Nor did I want him to feel as though he... had... to effectively come out to his family. While I'm at it I also didn't want Ethan to feel as though I'd... nagged... him into it, or that I was trying to force my own wishes on to him.

Then...

Then there was the... fear. The self-conscious fear of, oh God, so fucking much. Of being the centre – 'Well I never. Not only has Ethan decided to put in an appearance but, look, he's brought a man with him. Come on. We'd better check him out.' – of attention. Of coming across as either flustered or... shy and retiring... to the point of complete uselessness. Of...

Of being recognised.

Once again, I'm a realist. I know that photos, if not even video footage, of what I went through would still be accessible on the internet. I also know the powerful lure of pornography and how anyone can turn to it. It's just how it is. Hell, it's not even something I'd hold against anyone. If they want to look at, or jerk off to, images on a screen then, you know, whatever. There was a time when I even made use of it myself. Look. Fantasise. Touch yourself. Don't think about the models as real people who may not have actually wanted to be there. Climax. Move on.

People access pornography. The internet makes it easier than ever. For many, it's simply human nature.

Most of them just don't have the fear of being recognised that I do, that's all. 'There's something about you that looks familiar. Have we met before? I swear you look like someone I should... Oh... Oh!'

The fear of this one day happening is bad enough without worrying myself sick over whether I'd seem oddly familiar to anyone in Ethan's family. Just... Shit. The shame would be bad enough as it was without the way they'd then inevitably turn their attention to Ethan and start to wonder just where on earth he picked me up from, or... just what it was he happened to be in to.

So, I...

I didn't want to go. I wanted to help Ethan pack before waving him off and spending the weekend lurking inside my house and lamenting both my sad and sorry life, and what could have been.

He wouldn't have a bar of it though. Not even when I hit him with all my pathetic excuses and deteriorated in to barely coherent babble about not implying that he was related to a bunch of pornography-addicts at all, and how, hey, I knew it was just one of those things that anyone the world over could do, but... if someone recognised me it would be bad, very bad, and...

I'll never forget what he said to both shut me up and, even more importantly, get through to me.

Never.

“Even with my own family I have to present a façade that they'll never be able to penetrate. I have to lie about what I do and can't even tell them about all of the places I've been. What I can do though, even if it too has to be wrapped up in a big dose of make-believe, is introduce them to the man that I love and, it's for that reason as much as any other, that I really would like you to be my side.”

I...

It was, of course, at that point that I gave up and started packing. My fears were still there, just as they're pretty much always there, but, really, with a heartfelt speech like that ringing in my ears, what other choice did I have?

Ethan wanted me by his side, and... that's where I had to be.

I was still nervous about meeting everyone, and as we drew closer to the gate this afternoon I seriously thought I was going to be physically ill but, as I probably should have known would be the case, I shouldn't have worried at all as everything went perfectly. Although there would have had to have been more than a dozen people milling around to greet us when we arrived, I never felt... threatened, or put on the spot at all. Sure, they were as curious about me as they were happy to see Ethan, but they were just people. Kind, talkative, enthusiastic people who, to my great surprise and relief, I instantly felt comfortable with. I may not know what they see when they look at me, but I what I do know is that they seem okay with it and, again, I really am glad that I'm here.

“That's what I was hoping you'd say,” Ethan replies, planting another far-too-brief kiss on my lips before slowly pulling back and standing up. “Now, wanting to take my minor success of finally getting through to you and running with it, how about I just stop talking and get into bed...”

“While I could, of course, attempt to argue against that as well,” I retort, settling back down on the mattress, “because you're looking a little tired, if not perhaps even a little... frazzled, I'm going to let you have this one and just say... Please. Come to bed.”

“You're all heart,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes as he walks around the bed and comes to a stop by the window. Glancing back over at me, he half frowns and gestures at the lamp on the bedside table. “Hey... Put the light off...”

“But what about you? If I put the light off will you be able...”

“That's pretty much what I'm wanting answered,” Ethan states as he gestures once again at the lamp. “So... Turn the light off and we'll see.”

Shrugging my acceptance even though I'm yet to see the point in it, I reach across the bedside table and, turning the light off, plunge the room into inky darkness. Pitch black, inky darkness at that. Although I don't want to, I can't help but gasp at how dark it suddenly is and, despite logic screaming at me that everything's okay, my stupid heart starts to hammer heavily in my chest. I hate...

… That is...

I can't cope with pitch black.

It reminds me of being kept in a cell...

… Or of being blindfolded.

… Or of being in a...

… Coffin.

“I...” My breath catching in my throat, I whimper even as I berate myself for being so Goddamn pathetic and, wanting to at least pretend that I have some control over the situation, close my eyes. I'm nearly forty, yet I have to sleep with some form of light on in the room. Be it from an outside source such as light coming in under the door from out in the corridor, or an actual night-light hidden in the corner of the room, for my peace of mind I have to be able to see something when I open my eyes. It doesn't matter if I've got Ethan by my side and a gun nestled under my pillow as darkness is now my nemesis. Hotel rooms and the way they're always well lit even in the middle of the night used to annoy me. Now though I love them. There's always enough light coming from different sources that I don't have to worry about leaving anything on and, thanks to this, when I'm staying in a hotel I can even go so far as to kid myself that I'm quite normal as I don't have to make a point of making sure there's a light on in the room before going to bed.

It's just...

We're not in a hotel room now.

And it's dark.

And knowing that Ethan's only a few metres away doesn't help.

It doesn't help at all.

“Shit!” Ethan exclaims as, through the fog of increasing panic in my head I hear what I think is the sound of a drape being pulled back. “That... Shit! I'm sorry, Will. If I'd used my damn brain I would have opened the curtain... before... conducting my stupid experiment. Just... It's okay, and, again, I'm sorry, but... Come on. Open you eyes and tell me whether this is okay or not...”

Taking a deep breath, I slowly open my eyes and blink in the – no longer quite so dark – darkness. Although there's a lot of heavy cloud cover due to all the rain that's still falling, the light from the full moon beaming in through the window offers just enough illumination to, as I'm sure Ethan hoped it would, take the edge off the darkness and, in turn, calm me down. Yes, it's still dark, probably even a little darker than I'm usually comfortable with, but I can still make out shapes in the room, and...

I'm okay with it.

It's no longer pitch black, I can see the familiar shape of Ethan as he continues to stand by the window, and... I'm okay.

Embarrassed by my reaction, but otherwise okay.

“I... I'm sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn't have...”

“The only one who... shouldn't have... done something is me,” Ethan mutters with a sigh. “Knowing how dark this room could be, I'd been wanting to see if we could get away with simply leaving the drapes half open instead of leaving the lamp on, and... Well... I went about it the wrong way and I apologise. If this is still too dark, just...”

“It's fine,” I interrupt. “Seriously. I'm fine with it like this and just want you to come to bed.”

“Are you sure? I can always move the...”

“I'm sure. It was a good idea to use the light offered by the moon and, again, I'm fine with it. So... Come on, come to bed.”

“I still could have gone about it better,” Ethan sighs as, pulling the second drape half back in order to let a little more light in to the room, he walks over to the bed and sits down on it. Yawning, he then lies down on the mattress and pulls the bedding up. “So long as you're okay though,” he murmurs, waiting until I've settled on my side before arranging himself against my back and draping his arm around my waist. “Goodnight, Will. I know this isn't exactly what we're used to, and that we're stuck on a farm of all places, but... I'm glad that you're here with me...”

Sighing with contentment, I push back against Ethan as he both tightens his hold around me and slides his hand under my pyjama top so that he can rest it on the bare skin of my waist. “You might have dragged me to a farm,” I reply, placing my hand down over his, “but, honestly, I can't think of anywhere else I rather be right now.”

“I have to say, given how warm you are,” he murmurs, punctuating his response with a kiss against the nape of my neck, “that I'm even more glad that you're here than I was a moment ago. I know, I know. It's my own fault for having taken so long to get into bed, but... Shit! All of a sudden I'm freezing.”

“Mmm... I might be nice and warm now, but that's only because I had a bit of help,” I respond, choosing against letting Ethan know, seeing as he's pressed up against me, that I'm fully aware of how cold he is.

“Help?”

“In the form of a hot water bottle that some kind soul had placed in the middle of the bed.”

“And you didn't think of perhaps sharing it?”

“I did, but...”

“But... ?”

“Then Houdini Junior came along and, like a homing pigeon, made a beeline for it and claimed it as his own.”

“Homing pigeon?” Ethan grumbles, stroking his fingers against my belly as he once again sneaks in a kiss to the back of my neck. “Heat seeking missile, more like. Cats and warmth. Honestly. It's like an art form for them.”

“One you're currently just jealous of.”

“Damn straight.”

Smiling to myself, I close my eyes and push ever so slightly harder against the reassuring – if not currently warm – bulk of Ethan's body. “Goodnight, Ethan. If you can bring yourself to stop maligning poor Houdini Junior here, I hope you sleep well and that it's dry enough tomorrow for you to be able to show me around a bit.”

“Trust me, two things that are never in short supply around here are umbrellas and winter coats,” he replies with another yawn, “so I'm sure we'll be able to go on a bit of a tour.”

“Good,” I murmur as, proving once and for all that it really is contagious, I yawn. “I'm looking forward to it. In fact, I'm particularly looking forward to seeing that tree you fell out of when you were five.”

“The one that proved to me beyond all doubt that, unlike Superman, I couldn't actually fly?”

“That'd be the one.”

“Great Aunt May really covered a lot of my... youthful highlights, didn't she?”

“She really did.”

“Remind me to thank her in the morning, would you...”

“Only if you remind me to ask her to find that picture from the fair.”

“Hmm... So maybe not, then.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Watch it, or during our tour I may just have to take you to see a few cows...”

“You wouldn't!”

“I would, but...” Trailing off, he yawns again and hugs me just that little bit tighter. “It's okay, Will. You have my word that I'll protect you from... any nasty farm animal that might stray across your path.”

“As I might have to hold you to that,” I murmur with a dry chuckle, “don't think I'll forget as I won't.”

“As I'll always do my best to protect you from... both anything and everything,” Ethan replies both quietly and with an unmistakeably heartfelt tone to his voice as he gently flexes his fingers across my bare stomach, “it's not something you should ever forget either. Now... Shhh... Seeing as, if I'm going to do it justice, the tour's going to take up a fair part of the day, it's time to get some sleep.”

Not wanting to make an issue out of Ethan's promise to protect me, or, really, to even acknowledge it for fear of indulging in my favourite party trick of making an absolute mountain out of a close to non-existent molehill, I press my hand down over his and simply murmur, “Goodnight, Ethan. Cows and oversized pieces of farm machinery aside, I... I really am glad that I'm here, that... uh... we're here.”

“That makes two of us. Now... Goodnight...”

Silence, if you ignore the sounds of the wind and the rain lashing the house, that is, descending over the room, I luxuriate in the feel of Ethan as he hold me tight and presses up against my back and try... as hard as I possibly can to just make the most of what is, without fail, my favourite part of the day.

Just...

… This.

Alone with Ethan. Comfortable. Warm. Safe. And, yes...

… Protected.

I love it. I really do. I love how it makes me feel, how... it's not dependent on any specific location, and how, I swear, we're both able to simply take it for granted. Be it in a five-star hotel suite, or in either mine or Ethan's bedroom back in D.C., or even in a freezing cold abandoned warehouse that we're waiting to be extracted from, we're just... together and, seriously, that's all that matters. Ethan, who I swear is somewhat of the opinion that as he never knows how long he'll be able to sleep for he'd better just nod off as quickly as he possibly can, falls asleep within minutes, while, entirely by choice, I draw out the peace and comfort of the moment for as long as I possibly can before finally, eventually, succumbing to sleep. I use the time to think... Or worry... Or, if we're in the middle of a mission I might run through our plans and troubleshoot them until I'm satisfied beyond all doubt that I know what we're doing... Or, if things are going well, and these would have to be my absolute most favourite times of all, I just lose myself in... Ethan.

The feel of his body. His warmth and scent. The sound of his breathing. The sense of unbelievable comfort and, yes, love that I get from both his closeness and the knowledge that he's exactly where he wants to be.

With me.

The most astonishingly brilliant, compelling, and incredible man I've ever had the good fortune to meet, the one who could have absolutely anyone he wanted, is... where he wants to be, and that's...

… With me.

Me.

Instead of seeing – a freak – all my faults and, let's be blunt here, issues, he sees someone that he loves and wants to be with.

I mean...

When you look at it that way, who wouldn't want to drag the moment out for as long as possible before sliding off to sleep?

So... Yes.

This is something I both love unconditionally and derive a great deal of simple pleasure from. And tonight, knowing that I'm with Ethan in the very same bed his grandparents used to sleep in while he was growing up, well, it just makes it even... more... special.

It's just...

His comment about protecting me. I know it was only said facetiously, but...

He does.

He feels as though he needs to protect me.

And he shouldn't.

On paper at least, I'm as well trained as he is. I'm also as good, if not perhaps even a little better, at physical altercations as Ethan is and can hold my own in any fight. I'm both a physically fit adult male and an IMF agent.

I shouldn't, in other words, need protecting.

And I... don't.

Not really.

Yet...

I let him.

Make that, I let... them.

I let Ethan, and Benji, and Jane protect my far too delicate sensibilities, and I'm... as grateful for their kindness as I am embarrassed by it. Again, I'm a fully, possibly even highly, functioning adult male. I'm not a wowser or a paid up member of the Fun Police and I shouldn't need people to censor themselves in front of me in case I lose it over some sexually themed comment or joke said solely in passing. Sure, I find them far from amusing and, okay, fine, just about anything of a sexual nature makes me feel far more uncomfortable than it should, but...

They shouldn't have to.

My friends shouldn't have to watch what they say around me and should just be able to act normally. They do it out of the goodness of their heart, and I honestly think that these days it's simply second nature to them and they don't think anything of it, but, to me anyway, it's just not right.

I'm...

… Not right.

Not entirely, at any rate.

I try to be, and I really do like to believe that I bring as much to the team as the others do, but what happened to me changed me in ways that I've, albeit begrudgingly, just had to accept will never truly leave me. It's just the way that it is. I hate being in complete darkness, don't cope very well with being naked, have to throw everything I've got in to not hyperventilating if I'm restrained, can't watch sex scenes, hate the scars on my back so much that I can't even deal with Ethan... so much as looking at them, am so... fragile... that the three people who mean the most to me in the entire world feel compelled to watch me like a hawk and treat me with kid gloves, and...

“Don't...”

Unsure as to whether I really did just hear Ethan – who I could have sworn would have been asleep by now – or whether, for reasons completely unknown, I've started hallucinating, I don't reply and just... wait to see what might happen next.

“No. You're not imagining things,” Ethan murmurs thickly. “I really did just say something.”

“Oh. But... I thought...”

“If you thought I was asleep, you... thought wrong.”

“Oh.” 

“Mmm... So, don't. Just... don't.”

“Don't...” I know I'm only asking the obvious here, but, really, sometimes these things just have to be done. “... What?”

“Don't fixate on my... said in jest... offer to protect you from free-roaming farm animals and make it in to something it's not.”

“But...” I could lie here and try to convince Ethan that I wasn't thinking along those lines at all, but... He'd know. Don't ask me how he'd know, as he just would. Let's face it, his sixth sense has somehow worked out – through what exactly? A tense feeling in my shoulders? A tendency to telepathy that he's yet to come clean about possessing? – just what it is I'm currently focussing on, so of course he'd know if I attempted to fob him off with some bullshit lie. “Uh... How? How'd you know that's what I was...”

“Dwelling on?”

“Uh...” Damn, he's good. “Maybe.”

“Because I know how that... strange, amazing, and curiously endearing... brain of yours operates.”

“Oh...” Of course he does. Seeing as I really am firmly of the opinion that Ethan knows what makes me tick – or, alternatively, crack up – even better than I do, it's not even as though his response particularly surprises me. “I... I'm sorry...”

“You've got nothing to be sorry for at all,” he replies as he once again begins to stroke his fingers across my stomach. “The comment was, and you know it, meant as a joke. It certainly wasn't meant to either... set those cogs in your head into motion or send you off in a direction you really didn't need to go in.”

“I...”

“Apologise again and I'm going to kick you out of bed in favour of just spending the night with Houdini Junior.”

“Oh. That... That's some threat.”

“Given how finding you asleep on the floor outside the door would give my family something to talk about for weeks, if not years to come, it really is... some... threat, too.”

“As if we haven't already given them enough to talk about,” I murmur as, muffling a snort of laughter, I start to slowly roll over and, once Ethan's had time to both free his hand from under my pyjama top and shift over on to his back, resettle myself against him. “But... Fine. If you can accept my apologies for having woken you, then...”

“I wasn't asleep,” Ethan interrupts, sliding his arm around my shoulders and hugging me to him as, wanting to feel as much of his body against mine as I can, I drape my leg over his and shift even closer. “And... Seriously, Will, you need to listen to me when I say that you really don't have a thing to apologise for.”

Sighing, I take a leaf out of Ethan's play book and slide my hand under his t-shirt so that I can rest it flat against the bare, warm skin of his waist. “I know offering to provide a... protection detail... to keep me safe from free-roaming cows was only a joke, but... You... You shouldn't feel as though you need to...”

“That's where you're wrong,” Ethan replies with a soft sigh of his own. “I... should... feel the instinctive need to protect you from as much... harm, or doubt, or.... unhappiness, as I possibly can. It... I mean, if you think about it, it's only natural.”

“Natural?” I echo, making no attempt to hide the disbelief in my voice. “I... I should be your equal, not...”

“Of course you're my equal. Just... Come on, Will. I know how your mind operates, and I even know... why... it is you're thinking along these lines, but... You're wrong. In this instance you... couldn't be more wrong if you actually put some effort in to it.”

“You shouldn't...”

“Have to be listening to this?” Ethan retorts, cutting me off even as he tightens his arm around my shoulders. “Hey. Congratulations. You're finally right about something. Now. Listen, and listen closely as I'm only wanting to have to say this once. The reason I want to be able to protect you is because...”

“I'm...” Such a barrel of laughs. “... A freak!”

“While freak, is far too harsh,” he mutters with yet another, slightly heavier this time, sigh, “I would, however, currently go with... a little on the annoying side.”

“I... I'm sorry.” Why? Seriously, why'd I just have to go and open my stupid mouth? I don't want to be having this conversation, Ethan, I'm fairly certain, doesn't want to be having it either, yet here we are. Thanks to not knowing when to keep quiet, here we are going around and around in verbal circles. “Ethan, it... It's okay,” I whisper. “Just... go to sleep. I...”

“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” Ethan states as he not only cuts me off but also picks up where he left off a moment ago, “the reason I want to be able to protect you is because I love you. Did you hear that? It's only natural that I want to look out for you because you're the most important person in the world to me. It's... got nothing to do with what happened to you and it's definitely not because I think you're weak or fragile as, and I really wish this went without saying, I don't. I think you're amazing, and I want what's best for you, and that really is all there is to it.”

How?

How does he do it?

I know, of course I do, that Ethan's both brilliant and the agent all the rookies want to be like when they grow up, but...

His ability to not only see though all my – crap – doubt, but to also, seemingly effortlessly at that, just stop it dead, well... It's like a peculiarly unique art-form, that's what it is.

One that I'm extremely lucky to have free, never-ending access to.

“I...”

“Don't argue or try to over think it as it's just how it is. I want to be able to protect you from everything from being injured, to... overhearing things you don't want to have hear, all the way to... keeping you safe from cows of all things, because, and I don't know how many ways I'm going to be able to put this, I love you...”

Make that... Lucky doesn't even begin to come close to adequately describing it.

“I... I wasn't going to argue,” I murmur, somehow without so much as a hint of the wonderment I'm feeling managing to come through in my voice.

“No?”

“No. I was going to...”

“If you say apologise I'm going to have to go back to my threat of kicking you out of bed.”

“But... I am sorry. For...”

“How many times do I have to...”

“Please. Just let me finish. I'm sorry for... making something out of absolutely nothing and for disrupting you while you're trying to go to sleep.”

“And... That's all you're sorry for?” Ethan queries with obvious scepticism.

“At the moment, yeah.”

“Then... I can get back on my soap box and go back to setting you straight once and for all?”

“Uh... If you're sure this is the sort of conversation you want to be having it what used to be your grandparents' bed, then... Uh... Sure.”

“Actually, if you must know I like lying here talking,” he replies as he loosens his hold around my shoulders in order to stroke his fingers lightly down the side of my face. “The topic may leave a little to be desired, but in a way it reminds me of when I used to stay here as a child as, from my room just down the hallway, I could always hear my grandparents lying in bed and talking well in to the night. So, if you like, I suspect over the decades that this bed's already heard just about everything there is to be heard anyway”

“Does that mean...”

“That anyone with nothing better to do with their time could be listening in to us? As it's the birthday girl herself, May, who as you already know is close to deaf, staying in that room tonight, I'd say the answer would be no and that we could safely talk all night if we wanted to.”

“Mmm... No offence, but seeing as I'd never planned to be having this conversation anyway, I think I'll pass,” I reply, snuggling closer to Ethan and mentally crossing my fingers that, having already had his say, he'll let the matter drop and we can both go back to just trying to fall asleep. Perhaps I shouldn't feel this way, but given that with a few simple statements he's put my mind at ease better than I ever would have been able to manage myself, I don't actually regret having roused Ethan with my – apparently nowhere near as private as I would have thought they were – concerns. If he hadn't spoken up I'd probably still be fixated on the going nowhere loop of self-doubt in my head, whereas now...

Now, everything is perfectly okay again. Ethan's had his say, and I've not only listened to him but, even more importantly, I actually believe him. Which, in turn means, as is pretty much par for the course when it comes to how my mind is prone to operating, he was right and I was wrong. I was wrong to think it, and he was right to both speak up and pull me up on it.

Lucky.

Again. Lucky doesn't even begin to come close to cover how... blessed... I am to have Ethan in my life.

“While that's what I was hoping you'd say,” Ethan responds, “I've decided that I haven't quite finished yet and, wanting to get this... need to protect... thing through to you once and for all, just want to finish by getting this last point off my chest. So... Are you listening?”

“Do I have a choice?” I murmur blithely as, despite knowing that he can't see it, I can't help but smile at Ethan's determination to stamp my doubt out before it has time to take root.

“No.”

“That's what I thought. So...”

“So, it's like this. If... ninjas...”

“Ninjas?” I exclaim with a laugh. “Do I even want to ask?”

“As you'd have heard where I was going with them if you hadn't interrupted...”

“Fine. Fine. If... ninjas...”

“Were to jump through the window right now, would you... A) Bolt out of bed with the cat under your arm and leave me to fend for myself, or, B) stay and fight by my side?”

“Fight by your side, of course,” I reply as, just call it a light bulb illuminating moment, the point Ethan's trying to make suddenly becomes incredibly clear to me. “I...”

“You've got it now, haven't you?” Ethan murmurs. “That point I was hoping to make with my... ninjas, it worked, didn't it?”

“It did, yeah,” I whisper, craning my neck and, without even needing to open my eyes to find what I'm aiming for, planting a soft kiss on Ethan's cheek. “I... I get it now.” And, what's more, I do. Regardless of whether they actually need it or not, you want to be able to do what you can to protect those you love, because...

It's instinctive.

Ethan wants to be there for me, just as I want to be there for him... 

And for Jane. And for Benji.

It's just... natural... to want to be able to protect those you both love and who mean everything to you. As he's already said, Ethan doesn't look out for my best interests because he thinks I'm weak or in need of all the help I can get, he does it because he loves me.

Just as...

… There's not a single solitary thing I wouldn't do, or, for that matter, wouldn't give up, for him.

“So... We're on the same page at long last?” Ethan queries, closing his hand around my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well and truly,” I confirm, giving Ethan's cheek another quick kiss. “I'd try to protect you from... the ninjas... for exactly the same reason you offered to keep me safe from the cows. And that, of course, is because I love you and, just as you've already mentioned, it's simply... natural.”

“Hallelujah,” Ethan mutters with a relieved sounding chuckle. “So... Now that that's cleared up, how about going to sleep, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“That's what I was really hoping you'd say.”

“Ha! How's this, then? Shut up and go to sleep...”

“To be honest, that sounds even better.”

“In that case... Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Mmm... Goodnight, Will.”

Silence once again descending over the bedroom, I continue to smile to myself in the darkness and, for the second time tonight, set about trying to lose myself in the simple pleasure offered by the warmth of Ethan's body. While the irony – given my flighty moods and bouts of self-doubt – certainly isn't lost on me, I'm actually happier than I've ever been. Sure, I worry about – and make a fuss over – the smallest things and, while I'm at it I freely acknowledge that next to nothing has the ability to set me off, but these two... minor occurrences... aside, I have it good.

Hell, I don't think it's much of a stretch at all to say that I have things... spectacularly good.

In fact, it could probably even be said that I have everything I could have ever wanted. My health, friends who are far more like family than anything else, and who, even better still, I'm fortunate enough to work with, a job that I find both extremely interesting and rewarding, the sort of bank account that means I should never have to worry about money again, a lover who's the best friend I could have ever asked for and who, quite literally, is everything to me...

… Really, I have it all.

I do.

I even have... far more... that I had...

… Before.

Before... Berlin.

Before... IMF wrote me off as dead.

Before... I lost, or to be more specific, had everything taken away from me.

Freedom. Control. Self-respect. My name.

While it's yet another one of those things I throw a lot of effort in to not thinking about, my life's considerably better now than it was before. I'm happier, and I definitely prefer it. I just try not to think about what it cost to get me to this point, that's all.

Because if I do, if I do think about it, it just about breaks my brain.

It took six months of an absolute living hell – the memories and scars of which will be with me for the rest of my life, and which there's no denying are responsible for most of my doubt and mood swings – to get me to where I am currently, and sometimes...

… When I can't help myself, I...

I play this awful mental game of trying to decide, if, that is, I'd been given a choice, what would have been better.

Simply continuing my safe, mediocre life that saw most of IMF not wanting to talk to me for one reason or another and which, not knowing any better, I was actually relatively content with. Confident in my own abilities to do whatever task, be it analyse intel or successfully complete a mission out in the field, the Secretary asked of me, I didn't even particularly care what others thought of me and was happy enough just keeping to myself. There were times when I was lonely but, again, having been both an only child and somewhat of a loner, I had no real idea what I was missing out on and thought my life was quite fine as it was.

Nightmares didn't plague me back then, and I thought nothing of having to use a communal shower after having worked out in the gym. I may even have been vain enough to have liked what I saw when I looked at myself naked.

Or...

What actually happened.

Berlin. Salter. The unrelenting horror of what was done to me over and over again.

I've never told Ethan, but I genuinely wanted to die. Knowing that no-one was looking for me because IMF thought I was dead and that the odds of managing to escape where so low as to be close to non-existent, I honestly wanted one of the sadistic bastards to take things too far and kill me. When I got so sick with the combined throat and chest infection that resulted in me both losing my voice and, when it finally came back, realising that there was nothing to be gained from speaking anyway, I hoped like crazy that they'd have seen me as a liability and just let me slip away. But, no. They pumped me so full of antibiotics that for a while I had the joy of hideous hallucinations on top of everything else and, once my fever had lifted and my breathing no longer sounded like a death rattle, just sent me... back out to earn my keep again.

It was...

… Relentless.

Being a field agent, I thought I knew all there was to know about torture. Courses, lectures, hands-on training – I'd been through them all. I'd even survived my own fair share of... perilous... moments during missions and, while they'd been far from pleasant and a couple had actually resulted in brief hospital stays, thought I had it in me to just take whatever the enemy threw at me in my stride.

I know now, however, that I was wrong.

That while I could have written a book on what I knew about torture... for the purpose of trying to extract information, I knew nothing about it... for – sick and twisted – sexual gratification.

I know now, though.

Oh God, do I know.

For six months I was kept alive for the sole purpose of being forced to give my body over to the sadistic pleasure of strangers.

For six months I was...

… Nothing.

A living, breathing toy to be both used... and discarded... by others. I had no rights, no voice, and no... hope.

To be perfectly honest I wouldn't wish what I was made to go through on – the likes of Salter himself – my worst enemy.

I'm just not that cruel.

Should a voice have whispered in my ear during that time that, not only would it eventually come to an end, but that in the long run my life would be so much incredibly better than it had been before, I... 

… Not only wouldn't have believed it for a second, but I also wouldn't have cared.

I wanted to die, not to see a dim light at the end of a very long and dark tunnel or to consider that something good could possibly come out of so much pain.

But it did.

Something spectacular came out of my suffering and, as much as I refuse to dwell on it, I think that, maybe, just maybe, it might have been worth it.

Just...

What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?

Those six months didn't kill me and, physically at least, I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be right now. Mentally, I'd make a few changes if I could. Not doubting myself at every turn would be nice, as would not constantly worrying about photos of me surfacing on the internet. At the risk of sounding too greedy, I'd even quite like to... not hate the sight of my naked body so much and to, just for something really novel, find the courage to return to the gym and... not care... if my paranoia proved to be true and everyone there really did stare at me.

Physically, in terms of right here, right now, though?

Nope. I wouldn't change a thing.

Warm, comfortable, safe, and, best of all, secure in the knowledge that the man next to me, the one that's voluntarily offering his services as human-sized pillow for me to drape myself around, loves me as much I love him.

Happy.

I might have my moods, and my doubts, and far too many memories that I wish I didn't, but, all in all, I really am just happy.

Happy with my lot in life. Happy that I'm here with Ethan.

Here, in a bed that once belonged to his grandparents, and on a farm that's belonged to his family for generations, and...

Together.

So, you know, all things considered, how could I be anything... other... than happy with where I've just happened to find myself.

It's like, and I'm fully aware of how off-with-the-fairies this may possibly sound, an entirely different world to the one we usually inhabit. It just really is. The food's been fresh and home cooked, the few children that I met this afternoon were more interested in playing outside than they were in wanting to play with the iPad Ethan – in a moment of sheer desperation – gave May for her birthday, the air is actually fresh as opposed to polluted, and if it wasn't for the rain and wind still buffeting the house as I try to go to sleep, I honestly believe the world outside would be close to silent. While I'm at it, no-one gives any indication of caring one way or another in regards to what anyone is wearing – case in point, no one batted an eyelid at one young girl, who I suspect would be all of five if she was lucky, wearing a Thor cape and carrying around an actual hammer from the shed – and, I don't know, maybe it's just because they're all so comfortable with each other and take their familiarity for granted, but nor has anyone expressed so much as a hint of anything other than easy going acceptance that Ethan's brought another man along with him to a family get-together.

Perhaps it's just because it's in my nature to worry about absolutely anything and everything, but I seriously expected our arrival to have been greeted by a display of... awkwardness... from both sides. Ethan, and he'd confirmed this to me on a number of occasion, had never given any of his family reason to believe that he was anything other than one-hundred percent heterosexual before and I thought, even if he didn't, that rocking up on the doorstep of the old homestead with a man in tow would surely have to go down like a proverbial lead balloon. I'm not saying that just because the majority of his family had chosen to stay on the land I expected them to be – red-necks – homophobic or anything like that, but...

I just had my doubts about how well we, or even more to the point, Ethan, given that he was the one who had far more to lose if things went to hell than I did, were going to be received. It's just... one of those things. People are as entitled to their opinion as I am and, while I may not have agreed with it, if anyone had voiced their, and let's just call it... discomfort... and leave it at that, at their nephew or cousin as having come out as gay, then...

Awkward wouldn't even have become close to describing it.

The closer we got to the gate this afternoon, the more... resigned... and ill I started to feel. Not for my own sake as never having met any of these people before – and knowing that I wouldn't be meeting them again if things went to shit – I had no reason to care what they thought of me, but for Ethan's. While it's one thing to think you've made your inner peace with, solely by your own choice, never seeing your family again, it's another thing entirely to have them look down their noses at you or, worse, cast you out. He kept telling me that he was reasonably confident that, as there were a couple of old aunts who'd lived together nearby while he was growing up that he'd always been suspicious weren't exactly... sisters... at all, that no-one would care or, if they did, they'd keep their opinions to themselves, but I could see, as the miles ticked down and we got closer and closer, that he too was starting to have his doubts.

Now this, in turn, only made my own concerns and anxiety even worse. Even though it's not a role I get to play very often – and this, incidentally is a good thing. Not because I don't have it in me, as I like to think that I do, but because I don't want there to be any reason for it – I wanted to protect Ethan from heartache but, short of grabbing the wheel and forcing him to turn the car around, I didn't know what to say or do to reassure him that everything was going to work out okay and the last ten or so miles were spent in what I can only describe as apprehensive silence. Instead of pointing out landmarks, which is what he'd been doing for most of the journey, as we passed them, Ethan remained silent, and although part of me wanted to fill in the silence with inane chatter, I somehow managed to keep my – doubts to myself – mouth shut as well. It wasn't fun, and as the old gates finally came in to view I really did think I was going to have to ask Ethan to pull over so that I could throw up.

But...

I – we – needn't have worried.

At all.

Yes, what struck me as a seemingly never-ending collection of people appeared to materialise from just about everywhere as we drove up to the house, but instead of waving pitchforks – as my overly creative imagination was half expecting by this point – they were all smiling and, once we'd parked and were out of the car, it seemed as though everyone was wanting to hug Ethan and be introduced to me at once. No-one held back or wore expressions of either disgust or disapproval and, never really having experienced a family reunion myself, it was just... lovely. Fifteen or so people were all trying to talk at once, men and women of all ages were wanting to shake my hand or hug me, and, without knowing a single name of any one of them, it was almost as though we'd just always known each other. I didn't feel threatened, or as though I was being both inspected and decided upon, and, again, it really was quite lovely.

As was the look on the face of Connie, Joe's wife, when she showed us to our room. She was so pleased to be able to offer us our own room to share, yet at the same time was so... anxious to have it confirmed that she'd down the right the thing, that sharing a bed was what we would have wanted, that not only did she blush a particularly dark rose colour but she also hardly drew breath as she – babbled – sought our approval. Given that I'd been expecting to end up in separate rooms, if not just finding myself stuck on a sofa somewhere, discovering that we were getting our very own room really was another – you guessed it – lovely surprise. There was no 'nudge-nudge-wink-wink' or innuendo implied and, despite the concept of two men sharing a bed still clearly being something she was getting used to, it was obvious that as far as Connie was concerned we were just another couple requiring her hospitality and, well, as couples generally slept in the same room, that was simply what was going to happen.

Although, as is my want, I'd been expecting if not the very worst then at the very least extended moments of awkwardness and embarrassment for all parties, what I actually got was both gloriously normal and welcoming. Ethan might have brought a man home to... meet what was left of the folks... but that just didn't seem to matter a damn to any of them. They were so pleased to see him that I suspect he could have opened the passenger side door and helped a seven-foot drag queen – complete with platform heels, a chest that would rival Dolly Parton's, and hot pink spandex leggings that didn't disguise anything – out of the car and they still would have just taken it all in their stride. Ethan, now effectively an orphan and who has signed over his rights to the farm to someone who he knew could give it the attention it deserved far better than he ever could, is still just family to them and, as such, has to be treated accordingly. He's not the black sheep who turned his back on the farm, or someone who's now bringing shame on them by having come out as gay, he's just Ethan. Yet another Hunt, and someone who will always be welcomed with open arms no matter what.

I thought – when I wasn't erring on the glass-is-half-empty school of thought, that is – that Ethan, who everyone knew and would have wanted to catch up with, would have been the star of the show and that, as a stranger, I would have been able to just disappear in to the background. 

Yet again though, I...

… Thought wrong.

Everyone might have been overjoyed to see Ethan again after all these years, but they were also – surprisingly – happy to meet me. Very happy, even. I was someone new, a few, I think, held me personally responsible for somehow having delivered Ethan back to them, and I swear everyone, from the very youngest child all the way up to Great Aunt May herself, wanted to talk to me. Not because I was gay or a novelty, but because they were genuinely interested in what I had to say. The cheekier amongst them wanted to know how I was able to put up with Ethan, while others, by far the majority actually, just wanted to know how we met. If I told the story, the one that we'd concocted with as much attention to detail as we would have if a mission depended on it, once then I told it a dozen times. And everyone that I told it to smiled and laughed – just as we'd hoped they would – at the appropriate moments and, when I'd finished, they all thanked me for both having been in the right place at the right time and for clearly making Ethan so happy.

Luckily, although it's nothing more than an exercise in either make-believe or creativity, it's a story I quite like telling and don't really have any issues with telling it over and over again.

_'How we met? Are you sure you really want to know? I mean... it's not exactly a tale of love at first sight. In fact, and, please, I really hope you don't hold this against me, I actually thought he was a bit of, well, a... dick when I first met him. You see, the pharmaceutical company Ethan is a rep for, and the accountancy firm I work for, they decided in all their collective wisdom that it would be a great idea to send a number of their staff out on some, I don't know, team building or morale boosting wilderness survival course, and that's where we met. In a torrential downpour, not dissimilar to today's weather, actually, and out in the forest equivalent of the middle of nowhere. While I might look back on it now and call it fate, at the time it... Uh... Let's just say it really wasn't what I was wanting to be doing with my weekend and leave it at that._

_Now... For some reason the inept fools behind the course hadn't put on enough staff and, instead of just issuing refunds or making us book different dates, they decided to merge our groups together, and, Ethan... I'm sorry, I really am, for saying this, but he just struck me as an opinionated... uh... dick. He kept mouthing off about how he knew more than the instructors, and how it was all just a massive waste of his apparently precious time, and then... possibly to absolutely everyone's relief... he, courtesy of being too busy enjoying the sound of his own voice to be concentrating on where he was going, tripped over a rock and fell on his ass. Now... I'm not proud of myself here, but, yeah, okay, I laughed. Hell, we all did. It quickly became clear though, when we'd all stopped laughing, that is, that the instructors really were next to useless after all as, out of everyone there, it turned out that I was the only one who knew any first-aid, and..._

_You know what's coming now, don't you? While it hadn't, unfortunately, damaged his ability to talk any, what Ethan had damaged in the fall was his right ankle and, as you've no doubt already guessed, I got stuck with both tending to his ankle and getting him to the local hospital to have it x-rayed. And... No. Getting stuck with him in such close proximity didn't alter my opinion any and, because of this, because he was... pushing my buttons so much that I was actually looking forward to just abandoning him and getting back to the course, I still can't really say why it was I decided to accept his offer of taking me out to dinner by way of thanking me for my time._

_Maybe, and I acknowledge that this is hardly a romantic confession, I was just hungry and the thought of getting something to eat while staying out of the rain for a little longer was enough to... trump... having to put up with Ethan for another couple of hours. Whatever it was though, it... It worked. I quickly started to see him in a different light, how... the attitude he was displaying back in the forest was just a front to disguise the fact that he hadn't wanted to be out there any more than I did, and... Yeah. We had more in common than I ever would have expected, and, as I suspect you're just waiting to hear, we've been together ever since... So, you know...While I never did get a certificate to state I'd successfully completed the wilderness survival course, what I did get was something far better and I'm really glad to be getting to meet you all today.”_

It's a good story. One that's both believable and, just as we hoped it would be, completely engaging. It's not over-the-top, or likely to give the impression of having been... borrowed... from the pages of a cheap romance novel, and – once Ethan had laid his cards on the table and I realised that I couldn't be anywhere... but... by his side this weekend – we really did put a lot of effort into getting it just right.

A lot of effort, and...

… Even more laughter.

As the night went on and our ideas got sillier and sillier, I can't even remember which of them made me – roll my eyes – laugh the most.

The one that... had me running Ethan over because I'd lost my glasses and, despite being as blind as a bat without them, I was behind the wheel of a borrowed Jeep – of all things – because I was doing the good Samaritan thing of taking my ninety-year-old neighbour's Great Dane to the vet and just didn't see him when he stepped out in front me? That was definitely a contender.

As was the spectacularly unoriginal one of Ethan crashing in to me in Starbucks and spilling his... Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino... all the way down the front of my suit. What made this one even funnier was the fact it took us something like ten minutes of pouring over the Starbucks menu on-line to settle on the... perfect... beverage for Ethan to have tipped all over me. It couldn't have just been an everyday, ordinary coffee, oh no, it had to have that... special something... about it. That special.. snicker, or... 'he was drinking... what?'... factor to hook in the very audience we were planning for.

Then there was... Our hands touching as we both reached for the same spray tin of deodorant in the supermarket. Or... both of us, solely because we'd been dared to by our so-called friends, had gone down the path of on-line dating and somehow, against the odds, had found each other that way.

In their own way, they were all good.

What they all also happened to be was...

… Preferable to the truth.

The truth that...

How we really met isn't something I particularly care to think about.

Or, for that matter...

… Can even really attribute a specific event to.

Paris.

The fact that we met in Paris is a given. 

Where and when, however, we exactly met in Paris, well, to my way of thinking at least, that's something that could be up for debate.

In the hotel room? The one my rock-ape of a handler, the one that never saw any reason to deny himself a quick feel or blow job whenever he felt like it, delivered me to that fateful night and, not that I knew it at the time, heralded the end of my living nightmare? Logic, possibly even irrefutable logic, tells me that that has to have been where we met. A man I now know to be Ethan Hunt took charge of me and, instead of simply seeing me as a means to an end in relation to bringing his nasty perversions to life, was actually both kind and gentle. He didn't leer at me, or hurt me, or wave his cock at me while demanding I open my mouth and just take it, and... It wasn't even just the beginning of the end as it... was... the end. Again, even though I had no way of comprehending it at the time, from the moment I was shoved into that hotel room I was both safe and free.

It... should... be a good memory.

In some ways, it... is... a good memory.

Of course it is. There I was, meeting a man who in what seemed to be next to no time at all quickly became – and still is – the most important person in the world to me.

He was kind to me and didn't seem to expect anything, but even if I had taken his actions at face value at the time – which, thanks to both a drug induced apathy and resigned belief that he was simply being somewhat creative in setting up his very own kidnap scenario, I didn't for so much as a second – it's still not a... great memory.

For starters, I was naked. Secondly, my – beaten in to me – instinct was still to be wary of him. He'd hired me for the night, I'd been dragged through abduction fantasies before, and... How did I know he wasn't just messing with my head? For all I knew his... thing... was to get my hopes up before punishing me for daring to believe I was anything other than an object there for his amusement. He was, after all, just the last in a long line of men I'd been delivered to and, despite wanting nothing to do with, had had to succumb to.

I know now that everything really was okay, that the unknown man fussing over me really was as above board as he seemed to be, but...

It's probably irrational of me, but I don't want our first – official – meeting to be in that hotel room.

I...

I'm sure it's stupid of me, and it's not exactly as though it matters a damn in the long run anyway, but I just don't want my memory of meeting Ethan for the first time to be forever tinged with both nudity and apprehension.

Which...

… Is why I'm not overly anxious to go with what would have to be my next option either.

That same night, and in the main room of the flat in Pigalle. Ethan took the pieces of his disguise off and introduced himself to me. He told me that his name was Ethan Hunt and that, like me, he worked for IMF. He even told me my name. The name I hadn't heard for months and which, in my darkest moments, I'd even forgotten I had. William Brandt. Ethan Hunt. IMF. While they were all names that I dimly recognised, they... didn't really mean anything to me. They were just names. Like Mickey Mouse, Nelson Mandela or Vladimir Putin. I felt, I... knew... even, that they should mean something to me, but they didn't. Not really. I wanted them to, just as I wanted to be able to do whatever Ethan asked of me, but it was hard.

Names confused me, as did Ethan's clearly flustered behaviour. Why wasn't he just... getting down to business? Had I done something wrong? Was he waiting for others to arrive before starting? Did he find me... lacking... in some way? Just... How bad was it going to get?

Knowing no better, I was convinced that it... had... to get worse. It just had to. I only had one purpose, was only good for one thing and, regardless of the names he'd given me and how tentative he was towards me, something was going to have to give.

Being fucked or strung up, I was used to.

Being treated as an actual human being, however, that I just couldn't get my head around.

Yet again though, Ethan was never anything other than both kind to me, and... hesitant... with me. He never touched me, or gave any indication whatsoever of either wanting to do anything to me or... even of wanting me to do anything to him, and everything he did was just... right.

But...

I was still, as per my training, naked, and I was still wary of him.

And... I still felt as though it could have been nothing more than a cruel act, that he still could have been biding his time before, once I'd been lulled in to a false sense of security, unleashing his true colours.

So...

I...

I don't want those memories to be the dominating ones of our first meeting either.

I don't want to have been naked, I don't want to have been afraid, and I want to... know... beyond all doubt that Ethan really was both who he said he was, and who... I thought he was.

It's ultimately meaningless, as what's done is done and, let's face it, can't be undone, and it's not as though the specifics of how we met changes anything that followed, but...

Oh God.

My breath catching in my throat as I realise this, my sudden need to know – and be happy with – the details of when we first... properly... met, is something I'm now well and truly fixated on, I bite back the urge to whimper and, in all honesty, just don't quite know what to do. If I'm not careful I'll wake Ethan and...

… Too late.

Gently pushing me away so that he can sit up, Ethan turns on the lamp on the bedside table and, as I reluctantly open my eyes and look up at him, slowly shakes his head. “You know, I'm starting to think the fresh country air doesn't agree with you,” he murmurs, not doing an overly great job of hiding his obvious concern behind a light, vaguely teasing tone as he pushes the pillows up against the bedhead before relaxing against them. “Come on, Will. What's the matter, huh? Something is clearly bothering you, and...”

“I'm sorry,” I interrupt, I suspect, to Ethan's way of thinking, all but inevitably as I struggle in to a sitting position and hug my arms loosely around my chest. “I... I didn't mean to wake you. I... Hell... I don't even know how... uh... you know, and I... I'm sorry. I don't... I don't even know what's wrong with me, but... I... Uh... I'm fine. Really. Just... Please. Lie back down and go...”

“If you think I have any chance of going to sleep while you're lying next to me having some sort of minor meltdown, you're... even more out of it than I originally thought,” Ethan replies with a grim smile as he drapes his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. “Come on... What's up, huh? Just when I think I've got a fairly good hang of how your mind works, you...”

“Lose the plot when you least expect it?”

“I was going to say... 'find yet another way to start to worry me'... actually.”

“If you think about it you'll find it's probably the same thing.”

“Maybe, but whatever it is I want to get to the bottom of it, so, come on... Let's have it.”

“I...” Dropping my gaze, I unfold my arms and curl my fingers around the quilt. “I'm...”

“Just call me omniscient,” Ethan states, cutting me off as he begins to rub his hand up and down my upper arm, “but as I'm fairly sure I know what it is you were about to say, how about we just skip it and... here's a novel idea... hone in on just what it is that's so incredibly obviously preying on your mind...”

Accepting that, regardless of how much I might want to, I can't fob Ethan off forever, I press against his side and, without lifting my head, nod. “This... This is probably going to sound stupid to you, but, I... I need to know how we met...”

“How we met?” Ethan echoes, giving me a funny look as he uses his free hand to rub his fingers against his temple. “We met on that wilderness survival...”

“Not... how we're telling your family how we met, how we... really met,” I reply with a sigh. “I know, I know... I'm losing it over... uh... even less than I usually do, but I... I've got to know when we met. I can't even tell you... why... I'm suddenly stuck on this point as... I truly don't know, but it's suddenly hanging over my head and... Ethan, please... I've got to know.”

“We... met in Paris,” he murmurs, watching me closely to gauge my reaction to his no doubt deliberately neutral response. 

“I know, but...”

“The city of love,” Ethan interjects, flashing me a cautiously hopeful smile. “As places to meet go, it...”

“I...” Shaking my head, I sigh again and, solely because pulling the covers over my head and hiding isn't really an option, drop my gaze so that I'm staring down at Houdini Junior as – oblivious to my current fucked-up behaviour – he continues to sleep soundly between our feet. “I know it doesn't change anything, that I shouldn't even be thinking along these lines at all, but... I was thinking about how much I liked telling everyone the story we'd worked out as to how we met, and...”

“Then you started thinking about... how it actually happened,” Ethan finishes, squeezing his hand around my upper arm. “It's okay, you know. I get it. How we really met mightn't exactly be the sort of thing we can just share as an anecdote, but...”

“I... I don't want to have been naked!” I exclaim, jerking my head up and shooting Ethan an embarrassed look. “I know, I really do, that it doesn't matter, but... When I think back on how we met, I...”

“How's this, then,” Ethan murmurs, calmly talking over the top of me as he hugs me just that little bit more tightly, “we officially met... that morning when you walked up to me in the kitchenette in Pigalle and introduced yourself. Just... Think about it. You were both dressed and... in complete control of the moment. You'd had a nasty shock earlier in the morning, but... There you were. Walking up to me, introducing yourself, and, entirely by your own volition, talking to me. We shook hands, haven't stopped talking since, and... while it mightn't be as... shareable... as our wilderness survival story, I'm only too happy to live with it as our first... proper... meeting so long as you are. I mean, it mightn't be that romantic or anything, but... It's...”

“Far better,” I interject, marvelling, as just about always, at Ethan's miraculous ability to just cut through my crap and get straight down to the point, “than anything I'd managed to come up with. Just...” His – simple, effortless, and close to perfect – suggestion for how we met being one that immediately appeals to me as, breaking it down here, it ticks all of my boxes, I smile in heartfelt relief and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. I'd gone through what happened in the hotel room, and... uh... even what followed that first night in the flat, but...”

“You still didn't believe any of it and felt at a complete disadvantage,” Ethan states with both an understanding smile and a small shrug. “It's okay, Will. That is... The nitty-gritty of it all isn't okay and nor is it something that will... ever... be okay, but... You. You're okay. You're not, before you feel compelled to talk all over the top of me or argue, a freak or... needy... or a pain-in-my-ass. Your moods and concerns and all that, while I wish like crazy that they didn't plague you like they do, they're... understandable, and... there's always a way through them.”

“As in there's always a light at the end of the tunnel?” I murmur, shifting slightly – and earning what I swear sounds like a grunt of disapproval from Houdini Junior for daring to disrupt his slumber in the process – in order to slide my arm around Ethan's waist and rest my head on his shoulder. “Of course there is, and, contrary to my award winningly random behaviour, which, as you've no doubt gathered is out in full force tonight, I know that I'd have to be one the luckiest men alive. It's just... You know me. Once a thought plants itself in my mind I just have to follow it through to its... usually quite illogical... conclusion.”

“Quite illogical conclusion,” Ethan repeats as, smirking, he uses his arm around my shoulders to gently guide me back down on to the mattress. “That, dare I say it, would have to be one of the most... logical... things you've said all night.”

“Smart ass!”

“If the cap fits...”

“Yeah, but...” Propping myself up on my elbow, I return his smirk. “Which one of us are you talking about there?”

“You. Of course.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Your mind, Will, takes you to dark places because you've... been... in dark places,” Ethan murmurs, reaching for the lamp switch and waiting until I've nodded my consent before flicking it off and returning the room to darkness. “It's not a fault in you, and it's definitely not something you should ever have to apologise for.” Pausing, he resettles himself on the mattress and pulls me closer. “What you do have to know though is this... I'm here for you, and I'll... always... be here for you. Whatever you might want or even need from me, I'm here for you because, and this is something you're never, ever to forget, it's where I want to be. If you want to talk through the night, or if you just want me to hold you, or even if you...”

“Just want to go to sleep and...”

“Pretend that this... glitch... never happened. Just... Whatever you want.”

“Then... This. I want this,” I whisper as, closing my eyes and smiling in the darkness, I set about once again draping myself around Ethan. “This... You. My life exactly as it is. Benji and Jane. To be here, with you, in this bed. Even... to have been having these, unwanted and unexpected though they might have been, conversations. I want...” Trailing off, I glide my hand under Ethan's top and rest it on the warm flesh of his waist. “I want what I have, what I'm... extremely grateful for, and... what I know I have you to thank for. So... Thank you. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me, for... putting up with me, and, most of all, for just being you...”

“Face it, William, we're just stuck with each other,” Ethan declares through a yawn. “Now, how about switching that mind of yours off and just trying to get some sleep, yeah... I mean, God forbid I don't want to worry you or anything, but if I don't get some sleep soon you might be on your own when it comes to encountering any stray cows tomorrow...”

“That's just lovely, that is,” I reply with a half-hearted attempted at a dejected sniff. “One second you're all... I'm here for you, and the next... you're leaving me to fend for myself against a... flock of rampaging cows!”

“I think perhaps you mean... herd?”

“Herd. Flock. Whatever.”

“And... Did you even see the cows when we drove in? Granted, how they'll react to you falls under the great unknown but, speaking from my own personal experience here, I really don't think... rampaging... would be a word I'd ever use to describe them. Docile, however...”

“Yeah, well... We'll see if you still feel that way about them after they've met me and experienced the adverse reaction I apparently install in bovines everywhere.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you've got a... very... creative imagination?” Laughing or, as it's one of those things that's too close to call, groaning, Ethan rolls over on to his side and plants a lingering kiss on my lips. “I mean, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but... You're mad. You really are.”

“So says the man who thinks it's perfectly reasonable, if not actually... fun... to climb stupidly high structures without so much as the assistance of a harness,” I counter, stifling a yawn of my own as, with no degree of originality whatsoever, I copy Ethan's move of finding his lips in the dark and kissing him. “But... As you yourself said a second or two ago, mad though we both might be, it appears as though we're just stuck with each other.”

“Mmm... And I wouldn't have it any other way. You?”

“Not even if it meant never having to see another cow ever again,” I reply, deliberately choosing to go the facetious route not because I want to make light of how much Ethan means to me, but because I know that everything that needs to be said for the time being has well and truly been said and that the time has come to just go to sleep. “Now, I love you, I really do, but how about finally getting some shut-eye..”

“You know, that may just be the most sensible thing you've said all night,” Ethan replies, snuggling closer to me as he stifles another yawn. “Now... You're all good, yeah?”

“I... I'm all good,” I confirm as, unable to help myself, I once again smile in to the darkness. “In fact... I'm better than good.”

Let's face it, thanks to Ethan, it's not really as though I could be anything else.

~ end ~


End file.
